


Blood In Your Mouth

by faerierequiem



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Facials, Finger Sucking, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Riding, Sibling Incest, declan has issues, ronan bites his lips a lot, there's one sexual scene when they're younger but it's really minor and happens in a dream but jsyk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 01:10:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17091239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faerierequiem/pseuds/faerierequiem
Summary: Ronan finds Declan crying behind the back of St. Agnes one day. Angst and smut ensue as the distance between them closes.





	Blood In Your Mouth

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimers:  
> 1) if the characterization is off, that's because i haven't reread any of the books since trk came out, so i'm mainly running on my memories of the characters (side-note: i finally cracked open trk since it first disappointed me, but the reconciliation scene with declan and ronan on the roof and ronan gives declan an ORBMASTER and makes a whole silly deal out of it is lowkey kinda romantic and highkey hella cute)  
> 2) i am not religious. while i did a little research for certain things while writing this, if there's a mistake on something in regards to catholicism, then the fault is all mine
> 
> i wrote this like an obsessed madman in the span of a couple of days and basically listened to sabrina claudio's song, "all to you", and her "about time" album on repeat for the smexy bits and heize's "first sight" on repeat for the angsty bits, so y'know, if you want to set the mood, there's some suggestions. i hope anyone who reads this finds enjoyment in it!

The last thing Ronan would have expected to see behind St. Agnes on a Thursday afternoon was the sight of his older brother hunched over his knees. Declan looked small underneath the shadows of the church, sitting on the grass with his back to the bricks and his face hidden in his arms. The immediate rush of emotions Ronan felt from the scene was worry and confusion and a mix of other nameless feelings that he hadn’t felt in regards to Declan in so long, but then things went back to normal as Ronan felt something akin to distaste fill him.

He opened his mouth to shout something. Before words could form in his mind, Declan looked up, his eyes gazing across the field that spanned out towards the graveyard in the distance, and Ronan went silent as he saw the tears that fell from Declan’s eyes. Dumbfounded, he watched his brother wipe his cheeks dry with the back of his left hand. Ronan half-realized that Declan was wearing clothes that were more casual than the formal suits Ronan had grown used to seeing him in since their father’s death.

The memory of Declan up on the podium, dressed in his graduation gown as he'd accepted his diploma with a wide smile on his face, snuck into Ronan’s thoughts, and he found himself comparing that mental image with the Declan he saw now, miserable and alone and no longer looking annoyingly untouchable. Ronan stepped back around the corner, hiding himself, knowing he was the last thing Declan would’ve liked to see in that moment, and pressed his hands to his stomach. His decision to skip lunch that day was catching up to him, but he knew it was more than just his stomach that felt empty. He swallowed and resisted the urge to look at Declan again; instead choosing to step his way back to the BMW.

It was one of the only few other cars parked in the parking lot. There was no Volvo in sight. Ronan wondered how Declan had gotten to the church and why he’d been there in the first place. He wondered what had been the reason why he’d been crying. Taking a deep breath, Ronan started the car and drove off, trying to erase the thoughts from his mind.

 

* * *

 

Ronan could remember the last time Declan cried. It’d been over the break-up with his second or third girlfriend. Ronan had hated her for the fact that she’d often laughed at Declan rather than with him. Even now when Ronan forgot her face, he could still remember the condescending smirk that she had always seemed to have. Ronan had savored when she became absent from the Barns, but Declan had cried for what felt like an eternity over her as Ronan increasingly held back the urge to yell at him that she wasn’t worth a single teardrop. Those were the last tears he had seen Declan cry, but they hadn’t mattered as much to Ronan. Not as much as the tears Declan had cried when he was ten and Ronan was about to turn eight.

They’d found the beetle behind one of the barns afterschool. Matthew had been taking a nap and their mother had been in the kitchen preparing dinner. Neil was away on one of his business trips. He’d been gone for two weeks and would be gone for another week, but Ronan had been excited to show the beetle to his father when he finally got back home. The beetle was a metallic green color, blending almost into the grass and if it hadn’t been for Declan, they would’ve missed it, but his brother had went after the beetle as soon as he saw it and Ronan had marveled at the sight of the beetle as it moved about in the cup of Declan’s hands. They hadn’t been able to stop grinning at each other.

At one point, Ronan decided to go and find a plastic container for them to put the bug in. He’d run off to the house as fast as he could, which hadn’t been very fast, but there’d been a breeze rustling in the air that day and Ronan had felt like he’d been running alongside the soft wind, his legs carrying him across the fields and into the house to ask Aurora for a container. She’d listened in amusement as he told her about the beetle and retrieved an empty jar from a drawer, the ones she used to fill peach jelly with in the summer months and that would leave a sticky sweetness on the fingers and lips that Ronan loved to lick off. Ronan had smelled the jar for any lingering scent of peach jelly as he’d run back out of the house to where Declan and the beetle would be.

When he got to the barn, both Declan and the beetle were gone.

The first thought Ronan had was that Declan was hiding from him. He walked around and peeked at the barns, resorting to calling out Declan’s name after he gave up, but when there was no answer and his brother remained out-of-sight, Ronan had felt a sense of dread; his immediate thought that the beetle had been evil and taken Declan away or hidden Declan out-of-sight by turning him invisible the way the beetle had been with the grass. Ronan didn’t remember when he dropped the jar and left it behind, but his hands were empty when he began running around to look for Declan, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. Ronan was sure that that was the first time he felt fear—although there’d been times beforehand where he had been afraid, but the fear had gripped him then, and even when Ronan had found Declan inside of the barns, the fear hadn’t let go of him and Ronan had burst out into tears.

He’d wanted to shout so many things at Declan, but when he’d tried to, the only thing he’d been able to wail was Declan’s name over and over again and then Declan was sobbing, too, almost as loudly as Ronan. After a while, Ronan was startled to feel arms wrapping around him. Declan hadn’t been much taller than him back then and he’d easily been able to press his face into Ronan’s shoulder as he cried, his tears soaking the fabric of Ronan’s shirt.

“I’m sorry, Ronan. The beetle—” Declan had hugged him tighter. “It—it flew out of my hands. I couldn’t find it again. I’m sorry.”

At that point, Ronan had forgotten about the beetle and he found his tears coming to an end in surprise. He returned the hug and as Declan continued to cry, Ronan had lifted a hand to pat Declan’s head like he’d seen Niall do to him, his brothers. and even Aurora when she’d been upset over the mess a stray cat had made of a painting she’d loved. Declan kept his face pressed into Ronan’s shoulder even when his sobs subsided, but Ronan hadn’t mind. If anything, he’d liked it. He’d lowered his hand to stroke Declan on the back. It’d almost made him feel like the older brother, taking care of Declan rather than Declan taking care of him, and he’d been happy, his brother safe and sound in his arms.

 

* * *

 

“You’re already going to turn in for the night?”

Ronan almost hadn’t heard Gansey. He moved a side of his headphones off from his ear and looked towards to where Gansey was sitting, lit by the lamp that was placed on the ground next to him as he worked on his miniature model of Henrietta, probably taking a break from the essay he had been telling Ronan about earlier. It reminded Ronan that he had a couple of assignments he still needed to do, but he couldn’t care less. Not when it was nearing the last week of school and there was other things on his mind.

“Nah, not yet. First I’m going to rip open my mattress and see if there’s anything inside it.”

Gansey made a face at him in response, probably unsure rather or not Ronan meant it.

Ronan flashed him a grin and was about to continue on his way to his bedroom when he stopped. “Hey, Gansey?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you remember if Declan cried at my dad’s funeral?”

Ronan didn’t turn to look at how Gansey reacted, but after a moment, Gansey said, “Not that I recall, no. He didn’t cry.”

Ronan leaned a shoulder against the wall of the hallway and glanced down at his feet. That’s what he’d thought. “Did it at least look like he’d been crying?”

He heard Gansey let out a sigh. “Ronan, I’m sure Declan found his own separate time to mourn before or outside of the funeral. It shouldn’t matter or not rather we actually saw him cry. You both lost your father.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get back to writing your essay, Dick.” Ronan slipped his headphone back over his ear and walked away towards his room, opening and shutting the door behind him with a turn of the lock. He fell forward face-first onto his bed, taking off his headphones with one hand and flinging it upwards towards his pillow for later. He hadn’t been listening to music, only wanting the headphones for the space they gave him to think, but now he wanted to let the music distract him from the thoughts that he’d been unable to erase. He shifted onto his side to look through his music, skimming over the list of singers and bands until his eyes clouded over again with the image of Declan pressing his hand to his cheeks to wipe his tears away. Ronan’s hands went still.

When he closed his eyes, he imagined Declan on the bed beside him, lying on his back as his body shook with uneven breaths from crying. Ronan couldn’t decide if he wanted Declan’s eyes to be closed or if he wanted them to be opened and looking up at the ceiling as tears gathered at the edges. His hands ached to reach out and wipe them away, to gently trace his fingers underneath Declan’s eyes before moving his palm against the skin of Declan’s cheek to dry them and then…

Ronan bit at his bottom lip, curling around the hand he now had pressed to his stomach, his knees drawn up and perhaps brushing the side of this imaginary Declan, who would startle at the touch.

Ronan bit harder at his lip. _Fuck. Don’t do it. Not again. Don’t._ His other hand, the one not on his stomach, the one wiping away the imaginary tears of imaginary Declan, moved as if on its own, the palm brushing from Declan’s cheek across his nose and down onto his lips. Ronan realized he was holding his breath as imaginary Declan stilled beneath his touch—before he let out a sigh, as if to exhale the inhale Ronan had taken, the breath warming Ronan’s palm as Declan’s lips moved against his skin.

Ronan bit even harder at his lip, feeling a bead of blood emerging from the cracks. The drop of blood slipped down onto his tongue, salty, and the hand on his stomach moved lower to slip into his pants and— Ronan held back a groan. It was terrible and great at the same time, the movement of Declan’s imaginary lips against his palm and then imaginary Declan was turning onto his side so that he could take Ronan’s fingers into his mouth and Ronan swallowed, the hand in his pants moving into his boxers. His mind was empty of any words and any sense as he lost himself in the feeling of imaginary Declan’s imaginary tongue moving against his fingers, imaginary, imaginary, imaginary. There was more blood on Ronan’s lips. _It’s all fucking imaginary._

And then Declan—because of course his eyes would’ve been closed the entire time—opened his eyes as the mouth he’d been using to suck on Ronan’s fingers curved into a smile. As he looked up to meet Ronan’s gaze, Ronan gasped and opened his eyes.

The space on the bed next to him was empty, but both his hands were in his boxers and wrapped around his dick and his lip was bleeding, but Ronan didn’t care. He was doing it again, fantasizing about his own brother in a way he hadn’t since he was thirteen and he’d caught Declan’s first or second girlfriend giving him a blowjob in the attic of their house. Ronan could still vividly remember the way Declan had looked standing there with his eyes looking upwards as he’d leaned back against the wall, his hands in the girl’s hair and his cheeks a shade of red that Ronan had surprised himself with the desire to be the cause of. It’d taken everything in him then not to push up the attic door and tear her away from his brother, his Declan, and if it hadn’t been for the way Declan’s breaths had trembled out of his mouth along with the slight periodic moans that he’d made, Ronan was sure he would have done just that.

Ronan replayed the sounds in his head and when he closed his eyes, the underside of his eyelids became the color of Declan’s cheeks. He jerked himself off, his hand tight around his cock, hating himself, feeling like a stupidly gross kid again for reusing old reasons to masturbate, reasons that he long since thought had expired, but that he felt just as guilty about using as he had the first time he’d done it. He hadn’t grown up at all. As he came, the cum gathering up into the hand he held near the tip of his dick, it occurred to Ronan how much it scared him: that one sight of Declan crying had been enough to quickly undo a few years of hatred and unbury feelings Ronan had intentionally murdered himself. The world wasn’t right and he was wrong, but after Ronan had cleaned up, wiped away the blood from his lips, and gotten under his covers, all he wanted was to kiss away the tears he’d seen that day.

 

* * *

 

Ronan had no idea what the hell he was doing. Skipping school was something he was more than practiced in doing, but skipping school to drive to the dorm room Declan shared with Matthew was definitely not something he did, the destination never having even crossed his mind before. Maybe he should’ve been driving to St. Agnes instead, checked to see if Declan was crying again behind the church, but he was quickly closing the short distance from Aglionby to the dorms.

As Ronan tried to let out an even breath, his stomach grumbled and he almost gave in to the temptation to turn his car around and go find someplace to eat breakfast, but his hands only tightened on the steering wheel. Soon after he was pulling into the parking lot of the dorm rooms. He avoided looking at the building, staring instead at the hands he still had gripped around the wheel. The BMW remained idle in the parking spot, ready at any moment for him to drive off. He could still turn away. Matthew was at school, so Ronan wouldn’t have the excuse of coming to see him if things backfired. And maybe Declan would not even be in the dorm room, probably off crying behind some other church or dating a new girl with an annoying name. Rebecca or Katie or Tiffany or Lizzie. He could’ve thought of a thousand names.

With a hard press of his lips, Ronan turned off the engine and allowed himself only a moment before he got out of the car and made his way towards the entrance of the dorms. There was a scanner on the side of the door that he needed a card for. Ronan reached into his pocket for Matthew’s card. That was another reason he had decided to come in the first place. Ronan hadn’t been planning to skip his first classes, but when he’d seen his younger brother in the hallways that morning, all logic had left him as he’d asked Matthew for card. He hadn’t even had to say anything. Matthew didn’t hesitate to give it to him. Part of Ronan wished that he’d refused.

The door opened with a click. Ronan stood staring at it for a moment, the nerves in his body anchoring him to the spot as a list of reasons why this was a bad idea spun around in his head. Crap, he was turning into Gansey. List of reasons why something was a bad idea was his territory. Not Ronan’s.

That should’ve been the final straw for him to shut the door and run away to the BMW, but instead Ronan gritted his teeth and walked down the hall in search of the room number Matthew had told him of. 114. It was on the ground floor. Ronan could remember that, even though it had been months since he’d last stepped foot in here and even then, he’d only been there to quickly pick up Matthew for a lacrosse game. He made his way through the one hundreds until he reached 114 towards the end of the hall. The scanner on the door seemed to be glancing up at him expectantly, waiting for him to open it, and Ronan made the mistake of closing his eyes. Then, there was Declan’s smiling mouth, teeth biting down on Ronan’s fingers.

Ronan stumbled back a step from the door, holding in a gasp. What the fuck was he doing here? What was he expecting? For Declan to obediently lie down for him so that Ronan could stick his hand in his brother’s mouth? What was he thinking? Sure Declan had sex as often as people ate, but that didn’t mean he was messed up— _or as fucked up as I am_ , Ronan thought with bitterness. He felt a bite of anger ripple through him. Mostly at himself, but also at Declan, the hatred returning to him finally making him feel normal as Declan became the bane of his existence and the world was righted again. It wasn’t as if he had asked for any of these feelings. It’s not as if he’d been selfishly indulging in them as much as he’d wanted. There’d only been those couple of times when he was younger and yesterday.

Yesterday. Ronan would ask about seeing Declan at the church and then he’d be gone. Ronan slid the key card over the scanner. Unlike the front door, it opened quietly without a click.

Ronan opened the door the rest of the way and saw Declan standing, by the side of one of the two beds, his back to Ronan, a person kneeling in front of him as she gave him a blowjob.

Or no. It wasn’t Declan who was standing, the guy much skinnier than Declan and hair blacker than Declan’s dark brown hair. And it wasn’t a blowjob, the guy was thrusting forward into the mouth of the person kneeling. And it wasn’t a girl who was kneeling. Ronan recognized the side of Declan’s face, his eyes closed and tears streaming down his cheeks as the guy repeatedly shoved the length of his dick into Declan’s opened mouth.

“What the fuck?”

Ronan hadn’t meant to say anything—just like he hadn’t meant to do anything leading up until this moment, but he was shaking and Declan heard him, his eyes opening. For a split second, they stared at each other, Declan’s eyes wide, before Declan was pulling away and hunched over, choking with a hand to his throat.

The next thing Ronan knew, he was by Declan’s side, his hand resting on Declan’s back as Declan coughed. Ronan resisted the urge to wipe away the saliva around Declan’s mouth.

“Hey, Declan. You didn’t tell me we were going to be having a threesome.” The guy reached towards Ronan.

Without turning his attention from Declan, Ronan slapped his hand away.

Declan shook his head. Between coughs he said, “We’re—not. This is my brother.”

Ronan glared up at the guy.

The guy had his eyebrow raised as he watched Declan cough. Then, his blue eyes flickered to meet Ronan’s and a corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “Wow, I can see the resemblance.”

“And I can see you’re trying to mouth fuck my brother to death,” Ronan spat. His hand, the one that wasn’t on Declan’s back, tightened into a fist from the viciousness that he could feel coursing through him, that made him want to knock the guy to the ground and punch him until he was bleeding from all over.

“Relax, little guy.” The guy took a step back as if he could sense Ronan’s desire to beat him to a pulp, which had increased from what the guy had called him. “Declan can handle a lot.”

Declan let out a frustrated noise, stirring underneath Ronan’s hand and shoving the guy away with his hands. “Leave.”

“But I didn’t even come—”

“Put your dick back in your pants and fucking go before I make you.” Even with tears left on his cheeks and down on his knees on the ground, Declan’s snarl was intimidating enough to cause the guy to back up a few steps. Ronan felt an unexpected rush of pride—before it went away as the guy did as he was told and said one last thing before the door closed behind him.

_“I’ll let you suck your brother off in peace.”_

Disgust twisted Declan’s features, but Ronan could feel his face heating up, his heart beating loudly in his chest, and before Declan could push him away, Ronan was up on his feet, trying to decide what to do with himself before he sat numbly on the bed, staring furiously down at his hands. He half-heard Declan telling him to ignore the guy because he was an asshole, which made Ronan wonder why Declan would want his dick in his mouth in the first place, but he couldn’t find it in him to ask the question.

“Why are you here?”

The question cut through Ronan’s foggy thoughts, bringing him fully back to reality, and he looked up at Declan. Declan was standing to the side of him, arms crossed and expression tight, his eyes slightly red. Ronan saw that there was a bit of cum in his hair and looked away.

“You look like a mess.”

He heard Declan let out a sigh, but a moment later, the door was opened and closed as Declan left to go wash up, leaving Ronan alone on the bed.

He shook his head at the idea to lie back on it, not wanting a repeat of last night—especially now that he had new material to masturbate with. He was beginning to get hard as he remembered the glance he’d partially gotten of Declan as he’d been fucked in the mouth, cheeks flushed and tear streaked, his hair slightly standing up and unruly, bangs hanging across his forehead—as opposed to the slicked back style Declan usually sported. Ronan found himself savoring the image. He told himself not to, but he tucked the moment away in his memories anyways. He leaned forward and pressed his face into his hands with a groan. He did want to forget one thing: how he had felt desire rather than shame from the asshole’s parting words.

The door opened. Too late, it occurred to Ronan that he should have left. He could tell by the way Declan lingered at the door that he had been expecting Ronan to leave. For a moment, they stood in silence. It was enough time for Ronan’s erection to go away. The pressure from unspoken words pressed down onto his back and into his shoulder blades.

“Do you want something, Ronan?”

Ronan wanted his cock in Declan’s mouth, wanted Declan’s cock in his mouth, and _wanted_. He continued sitting hunched forward on the edge of the bed, quietly trying to steady his breathing and not saying anything. Other than the unspeakable, he had no idea what else to say that would also be honest, but his jaw clenched as if he did.

His stomach answered for him, growling audibly into the room.

Ronan stilled, feeling stupidly embarrassed.

He heard Declan move around the room, footsteps soft against the carpet and then there was the jingling of keys. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Slowly, Ronan looked up, his face still in his hands. He wasn’t ready yet to fully put himself out in the open, but his eyes peeked out between his fingers and he saw Declan waiting by the door for him, appearing normal again in his formal clothes with his face washed and clean hair styled back.

“Go where?” he asked, voice sounding far too cautious and raw.

“Breakfast,” Declan said. “I haven’t gotten any either.”

“If that’s because I interrupted you, then I want to let you know that cum doesn’t count as breakfast.”

Ronan expected to be shocked at the words that left his mouth, but instead he felt shameless. It was probably the sort of crude remark they both had been waiting to hear him say. And once he did, he could feel things returning back to normal. He was himself again. Not the quiet nervous wreck he had been. Even Declan looked relieved at the words, although a slight blush came across his face that made Ronan want to press him up against the door.

“Shut up.” Declan opened the door.

Ronan got up to follow.

 

* * *

 

It didn’t last long. As soon as Ronan was sitting in the passenger seat of Declan’s Volvo, he could feel the part of him that was the quiet nervous wreck returning, which increased the more time passed and neither of them said anything. He tried to go back to normal. He’d been so good at pushing Declan’s buttons, but now when he needed it most, that ability was failing him. He found himself missing their arguments. He tried to think of something that would get on Declan’s nerves, but instead he stared out the window and traced his fingers around the leather bands on his wrist, unable to come up with anything. He wondered why Declan had even invited him to breakfast to begin with. Why prolong the torture rather than cutting him off at the dorms?

“Ronan.”

Ronan’s hand stilled on his arm. With a silent curse, he realized his hand was shaking, so instead he balled it up into a fist on his lap and turned towards Declan.

Declan looked forward to the road, his profile slightly lit by the sun, but his expression was shadowed and serious. The corners of his mouth were pressed downwards, not quite a frown, but almost, and Ronan watched Declan’s Adams apple slightly move in his throat as he swallowed.

Ronan swallowed. “What?”

Declan opened his mouth, but no words came out. Ronan watched as he tried once more before the car came to a stop. He realized they had parked in the lot of a diner, a washed-up looking building that had probably been baby blue at some point, looking old and weary and not like someplace Ronan would have expected for Declan to go. Then, he wondered if this was their destination or if Declan had stopped the car, so that he could be able to say whatever he was trying to say. Ronan’s stomach grumbled slightly, but he wasn’t hungry at all.

After a moment of silence when Declan was unable to say anything, Ronan felt compelled to raise an eyebrow. “Cat got your tongue?” After he spoke, Ronan felt the nervousness fading away and he held back a sigh of relief. “Or should I say—?”

“Ronan.” Declan narrowed his eyes, the verbalization of Ronan’s name a warning.

Ronan flashed him a grin. God, it felt good to be his fucking self again. “Well, there isn’t a dick in your mouth anymore. You can say whatever you want to say.”

He expected Declan to let out an exasperated exhale, to roll his eyes, to run a hand over his face in exhaustion, to do anything to show how fed up he was. Instead, something uncertain crossed Declan’s face and he was turning slightly in his seat to face Ronan. “You… Are you…?” He trailed off.

As the silence lengthened, Ronan began to feel a sense of dread that Declan knew about him, about how messed up he was, about how he wanted Declan in a way he shouldn’t, and he was a second away from opening the door and getting out when Declan finally said, “You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?”

Ronan let out an uneasy laugh. “About what? You getting fucked in the mouth?”

When Declan didn’t reply, Ronan knew he’d gotten the right answer and he felt so relieved he was sure Declan could see it. So this was why Declan had invited him out to breakfast: damage control. Of course he’d want to make sure Ronan wouldn’t blackmail him or something. It was all so stupid that Ronan was almost mad about it.

“Who would I even tell? Gansey and the others would just tell me to mind my own business. Or look at me weird. They all know you like to fuck anyways. And how messed up do you think I am if you think I’d ever tell Matthew? And I’m not going to tell mom. What the fuck, Declan. What are you worried about? Fucking hell. Stop worrying about your image so much. If anything, girls would probably just find it hot and ask to watch you get fucked in the mouth or something. They’d probably even get off on it. Fuck if I know.”

Ronan was rambling. He knew it. His voice filled the inside of the car and it sounded too loud in his ears and it was long past the point where Declan would usually tell him to shut up, but he only watched Ronan quietly, an almost thoughtful expression on his stupid face. “Say something, you dickhead.”

“Thanks.” Declan unbuckled his seatbelt.

Ronan scowled. “Why were you crying yesterday?”

Declan almost flinched. “What?”

“Yesterday. Behind the church. I saw you crying.”

Declan stared at him. “Is that why you came to the dorms today?”

“I asked a question first.”

“You could’ve just called me and asked.”

“When have I ever used my phone? Or do you wish that I had so that you could’ve had a dick down your throat in peace without me walking in on you?”

Declan reached up to rub the bridge of his nose, a belated sign that he was beginning to get fed up with the conversation, which made Ronan all the more irritated. Here was the Declan he hated, always hiding everything and being invasive and pretending Ronan was an idiot whenever he tried to uncover something, or proved that Declan wasn’t as clever as he wanted himself to be.

He let out a disgusted sound and moved to get out of the Volvo. The damn car was as pristine and stuffy as Declan. “Fuck you, too, Declan.”

“Ronan—”

Ronan slammed the door shut and started the walk back to the stupid dorms. He should’ve driven his BMW like he’d thought, but the idea had quickly passed by in his head because he’d been too busy being a fucking idiot over Declan. Why had he even come because of him anyways? Now that he thought about getting aroused over his brother, Ronan only felt turned off and the desire to punch his hand into something. This was the way it had been. This was the way things should always be.

A hand wrapped around his arm and then Declan was blocking the sidewalk in front of him.

Ronan stared up into Declan’s blue eyes and felt a drop in his gut. All the angry thoughts he’d had in the past couple of seconds swiped away as easily as that. Fuck his fucking hormones.

“Ronan, I don’t want to fight. Not right now.” Declan’s expression was calm, but there was the hint of a plea in his voice that made Ronan slightly relent.

But not completely. “It’s not like I wanted to fight either,” he growled.

“Yeah, I know.” Declan nodded, looking past him to somewhere else in the distance. “I know you don’t. Can we just go get some breakfast?”

Grudgingly, Ronan shook Declan’s hand from his arm and turned back around towards the diner. “You’re paying.”

 

* * *

 

“What happened to your lip?”

Ronan looked away from the window and back to Declan sitting across from him in the booth. They were waiting for their orders, silent and bored. Or at least, Ronan knew he was, regret from choosing to stay with Declan growing in him, and now he felt self-conscious as he held back his hand from going to his mouth to hide his bottom lip. He tried to forget about last night, but Declan’s mouth and moans and pale red cheeks crowded to the front of his thoughts. “I’ll tell you what happened if you tell me why you were crying yesterday.”

It wasn’t too much of a risk. Declan’s lack of answer so far had more than proved he wouldn’t tell, so Ronan’s own answer remained safe in the unknown between them. Two could play this game.

Declan acknowledged this by taking out his phone, probably ready to pass the time by looking through all his texts for the next hook-up or something.

Ronan rolled his eyes. “So what are you?”

Declan glanced up from his phone. “What am I?”

“Yeah. What are you?” Ronan reached over to take Declan’s phone from his hand and threw it on the seat next to him, out of Declan’s reach. “Some closet case who’s only been into dicks this whole time? Straight but curious? What?”

Declan shushed him, looking around the diner as if any of the few other customers would actually care about what his sexuality was. “You’re too loud.”

“Can I just get an actual answer for once?” Ronan hissed. Why was it that talking to Declan always took ten years longer than it needed to?

"Bye.”

“What?” Was he really going to walk out on Ronan now? Did he hate giving answers that much? Ronan glared, infuriated.

For reasons that escaped him, Declan looked annoyed with him. “I’m bi. Bisexual.”

Oh.

_Oh._

Ronan ignored the voice in the back of his head saying maybe there was a chance for him after all, which made him want to slap himself. Without thinking, he said the first words that came to mind. “Of course you are. Why settle for just one when you can do it with as many people as possible, huh?”

It was too late to take it back. Declan looked ready to hit him.

Ronan was almost prepared for that hit, but instead Declan simply held up a hand. “Give me back my phone.”

Ronan did without another word. He felt a little guilty. His brother had just came out to him and he’d basically accused him of being a slut, which Declan was. That was nothing new, but Ronan knew he should’ve handled it differently. He blamed the stupid voice in his head for the stunt he’d pulled. There was no “chance” with Declan. Ronan bit at his lip, and then he blurted out, “I was jacking off.”

Declan immediately looked up at him, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “You what?”

“I was jacking myself off and I bit my lip too hard. That’s what happened.” Ronan wanted to curl up underneath the table.

Declan’s eyes dropped to his mouth and then his lips turned up in a half-smile and the two things made Ronan feel as if he’d been thrown up into the air. “Take it easy, Ronan. I should be the only one getting hurt from being horny in this family.”

If only he knew. But Ronan had enough sense this time not to speak without thinking. Instead, he returned Declan’s half-smile with one of his own. “Whatever.”

 

* * *

 

Declan was gone from Mass on Sunday.

The first thing Ronan thought was that he had stayed back in the dorm room, probably wrapping his mouth around a dick or maybe pressing his lips between the legs of a girl. Then, he thought that maybe Declan was sick for some reason, but Matthew shook his head when Ronan asked. “He was gone when I woke up this morning.”

The last thing Ronan thought before the service began was that Declan was a fucking hypocrite, giving him crap for missing church and then missing it himself. Ronan was sure that Declan probably had some record going on for how long he could consecutively attend church without missing a day. Too bad that was over and done with.

After service, Ronan offered Matthew a ride back to the dorms, part of him wanting to see if Declan was there, but not wanting to come without a solid reason again. He felt slightly bad for using Matthew, but Matthew was a more than solid reason.

On the way to the dorms, Matthew pointed out a lady selling jam by the side of the road.

Ronan pulled the car to a stop and they got out, purchasing two jars of blueberry jam that she claimed was fresh from the fields. The process should’ve been quick, but then Matthew got into a conversation with the woman about what other produce were in season. Ronan was practically itching to tug Matthew by the arm back to his car, or to leave Matthew in conversation with the woman as he drove back to the dorms by himself, which would’ve highly defeated the purpose of his original plan.

After a while, much later than Ronan would’ve liked, the lady was pressing a free jar of strawberry jam into Matthew’s hands as appreciation. Ronan was unsurprised. Matthew had that sort of effect on people. He smiled as Matthew gave him the jar of strawberry jam to keep, almost as if in apology for the wait, and Ronan felt embarrassed that he’d been impatient or that it had been so obvious.

A thought occurred to him. “Isn’t strawberry Declan’s favorite?”

Matthew nodded. “Yeah, but since Declan was absent today, he shouldn’t get it, right?”

Ronan laughed, reaching over to ruffle Matthew’s hair. It was always so simple and easygoing with him, not difficult like Declan. Then, he realized that that was likely what Declan thought about him. The fact that Ronan got erections because of him didn’t help their relationship much, even if Declan didn’t know about it. Yet again the image of Declan down on his knees with a cock moving into his mouth appeared in Ronan’s thoughts. By the time they got to the dorms, Ronan found that he was no longer in the mood to go inside and see rather or not Declan was in there, so he dropped Matthew off instead, waving him goodbye as Matthew got out with the jars of blueberry jam.

Despite himself, Ronan found himself looking around for a Volvo as he drove out of the parking lot. He wasn’t sure if it was there. Maybe whatever had gotten Declan up in the morning was still keeping him away.

He had the growing sensation to check behind St. Agnes.

That was how Ronan found himself driving back to church. It was a stupid idea. He’d already been there once already and Declan hadn’t been there, so why would he be there now, but Ronan stubbornly clung to the idea, retracing the road back from where he had already been. The sun was bright in the sky, shining onto the hood of his car with a bright whiteness. It was a nice day to sell jam by the side of the road or to go hunting for a Welsh king. He remembered Gansey telling him about the plan to go on a search with the others before he’d left for church. Ronan should’ve gone back to Monmouth Manufacturing instead, but the thought only made him cling more stubbornly to the idea of Declan being at St. Agnes.

His eyes found the Volvo in the parking lot without trying. Ronan could see Declan lying back in the driver’s seat with his eyes closed. Hoping Declan wouldn’t noticed him and that the element of surprise would remain on his side, Ronan parked the BMW behind the Volvo so that Declan wouldn’t see him as he walked up and knocked on the window. The sound didn’t startle Declan, which made Ronan wonder if he was used to people knocking at his window, but Declan did look surprised to see him standing there. There was a silent question in his eyes.

Ronan held up the jar of strawberry jam in response.

Declan tilted his head, gesturing for him to get in the passenger’s seat.

“Taken any more dicks with that mouth of yours since the last time I saw you?”

Declan groaned, regret instantly appearing on his face from his decision to let Ronan inside the car.

Ronan grinned.

“It’s none of your business, Ronan.”

“So that’s a yes then.”

“Fuck off.”

"Want some strawberry jam?”

“No.” Declan’s eyes flickered towards the jar. “Actually, yes. If you haven’t poisoned it, that is.”

“I didn’t do that, but there may be some cum in there.”

Declan buried his face into his hands. “Why are you like this?”

"I thought you might like it like that.” Ronan had no goddamn idea why he was feeling so giddy, but he didn’t want it to go away. He twisted open the lid of the jar, the faint scent of the strawberries filling the space of the car soon after. “Here. Try some.”

Declan glanced up from his hands and down at the jam. “With what? Do you have some toast I can put it on?”

“When have I ever been that prepared? Just use your hand or something.” Ronan curled his pointer finger into the jam and tasted it. It was sweet, a lumpy, but soft consistency; the flavor definitely more natural than the superficial strawberry flavors that was used in candies. “It’s actually good.” He dipped his fingers again into the jam for more of it. “Isn’t strawberry your favorite?”

Declan was looking out the window. “It is my favorite.”

“Then come on. Try some.” Ronan held the jar out in front of Declan’s face.

For a moment, Declan was still. Then, he moved, bridging the few inches between his face and the jar, and took the fingers Ronan had used to suck jam from into his mouth. Ronan’s breath faltered and came to a stop; the image of imaginary Declan’s mouth, smiling around Ronan’s fingers, flashed onto the image of Declan biting lightly onto his fingers in front of him. Ronan’s eyes were opened. He wasn’t dreaming. It wasn’t imaginary. And then he startled as he felt Declan’s tongue against one of his fingers. The jar dropped from his hands, the impact of it landing on the console jerking them apart.

“Fuck.” Declan leaned away from him. His voice was strangled around the single word.

Ronan couldn’t breathe. The last breath he’d taken was stuck in his throat. He was staring down at the jar of strawberry jam, some of it had spilled onto the seat from the fall, but most of it had remained within the glass, caught underneath a beam of sunlight and glittering red. Ronan reached down, stuck three fingers into the strawberry jam down to the second knuckle and hesitated.

“Here.”

There was no turning back. He offered his hand up for Declan.

Declan stared at him, almost incomprehensive.

The breath was finally able to leave Ronan’s throat. He reached forward, putting the tips of his fingers to Declan’s lips. When he didn’t open his mouth, Ronan gently moved his fingers between Declan’s lips, feeling the barrier of teeth inside, blocking him from going deeper.

“Declan—” Ronan’s voice caught. He could see the statue of the Virgin Mary in the distance. He had no idea what the fuck he was doing, but he was going to hell for this. The fantasizing and masturbating had been enough, but for sure, trying to stick his hand into his brother’s mouth in the parking lot of their church confirmed his damnation. He was going to burn for an eternity. Although maybe if he were able to keep the memory of the reality of Declan’s teeth and tongue and lips around his fingers, that would be enough to make the fires worth it.

Ronan started to withdraw his fingers, but as he did, a warm breath blew across the jam and over his skin as Declan closed his eyes and opened his mouth, inviting him to try again.

Ronan swallowed. He could see the faint pink of Declan’s tongue, waiting in the shadows, and he reached forward to run his fingers across it, feeling it quivering beneath his fingertips. His breath caught again in his throat, so suddenly that he couldn’t recall if he’d been about to exhale or inhale. It should’ve been impossible for him to become more breathless, but as Declan’s lips wrapped around his fingers and he started to suck, Ronan did, almost forgetting how to breathe completely. He began to move his fingers in-and-out of Declan’s mouth. He felt the stupid urge to say something, but there was nothing to say—until he saw the tears on Declan’s cheeks.

He hadn’t even noticed when Declan started crying. The tears came quietly without stopping, following the curve of Declan’s cheek to his jaw.

“Declan?” Ronan spoke his name quietly, his voice more uncertain and afraid than he would’ve liked. His hand stopped moving, his fingers remaining immobile as Declan continued sucking at them, even going as far as moving his head forward so that Ronan’s fingers were deep in his mouth to the last knuckle. Ronan felt his stomach clench. He really didn’t have any idea what he was doing. He questioned if Declan even knew.

He removed his fingers, careful and slow so that Declan knew what he was doing as he did it. Afterwards, he waited for a response, but Declan remained sitting there with his mouth slightly opened, his eyes still closed as tears continue to fall from them, and Ronan noticed that his shoulders and chest were trembling from the quiet sobs. Without thinking, he moved forward, miscalculating the distance he had to cross, so that he fell slightly forward, kissing Declan’s wet cheek harder than he had intended. He felt Declan flinch from the touch, but his eyes didn’t open and he remained silent. Guilt began to emerge as Ronan pressed another kiss to Declan’s nose before he pulled away, embarrassed and hating himself.

“I’m sorry.” The apology sounded squashed and insecure in the heavy air between them, but it triggered Declan into motion, so that he was sitting properly in his seat as he hunched forward to press his face into his hands.

Ronan watched Declan’s shoulders shake. The longer he did, the more he grew hopeless. He didn’t know how to navigate this situation. The Declan in his fantasies had just always wanted the touches. Now that he was here with the actual thing, Ronan felt unprepared and stupid and terrible. He’d never been prepared for an aftermath, because whatever had happened between them had never even been a possibility to him. But now it was real and it didn’t matter that Declan had made the first move. Ronan should’ve had the sense not to continue with it, but he’d given in so easily, motivated by his own selfishness, and completely forgetting everything about Declan that made him so Declan. Of course he would react like this. His stupid apology suddenly felt premature. A sorry was nothing.

Ronan decided to be honest. “Declan, I… I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. What do you want me to do?”

He heard Declan sniff and perked in expectation of an answer, but Declan only fell silent again.

Ronan let out a jagged breath and sat back in his seat. He stared blankly out at the parking lot, unable to think.

“Leave.”

The word surprised him. For a moment, Ronan was so excited to hear Declan speak that he didn’t grasp what Declan had said, but he went still when he did. Leaving hadn’t even been on the list of things he would’ve considered doing, because there was no way he was going to leave Declan crying alone in his Volvo, but then the silence stretched on and Ronan grew more and more desperate. He’d disobeyed Declan plenty of times before, but Declan hadn’t been crying during any of those times. This was different in every way. He remembered the jam between them and heard himself stammering about the mess, but when Declan didn’t reply, Ronan’s heart sunk further into his chest until it was pushing against one of his lungs, suffocating it, and his breathing trembled as he reached out a hand to open the door, hesitating until he realized Declan’s shoulders had stopped shaking. Then, he left.

 

* * *

 

Ronan lost more than his father when Niall died. Other than Aurora going incognito for reasons Ronan was never given (or halfhearted reasons that he was given but never grasped), it felt like he had also lost Declan as well. Ronan could only admit it to himself as he laid unable to sleep at night that the lost, in its own way, cut sharper than the dull edge of Niall’s death, the latter numbing him with sadness in comparison to the piercing anger Ronan felt boiling up in him whenever he thought of or interacted with Declan.

The distance hadn’t happened in the division between Niall being alive and Niall being dead. It’d been occurring for a while before then, Declan growing apart from Ronan sometime during the transition from middle school to Aglionby, the growth happening so gradually that Ronan would never be able to pinpoint the exact moment when they no longer were as close as they’d used to be as boys. It’d been hard at first, the time Declan would have previously spent with Ronan became spent with girlfriends and friends, all older kids that made Ronan feel immature and stupid until he stopped trying to interfere completely.

That had most likely been what had caused Ronan to think that things would change with their father’s death, that it’d bring him closer again to Declan. He’d been right, but only at first.

Declan had been the first person Ronan saw after he’d discovered Niall’s body in the driveway. Ronan had been crying, because he couldn’t forget what he saw and things would no longer be the same, and he had run into Declan’s startled arms. It’d been the first hug they’d had in ages and it would be the last hug between them. At the time, Ronan felt like he might’ve known this. He’d pressed his face into Declan’s chest, sobbing loudly into his shirt. He’d dug his fingers into Declan’s back, his fingernails sinking deep into the fabric of Declan’s shirt and down into his skin. He’d pressed up so close into Declan that nothing could have passed through between them, and Declan had accepted it all with open arms that wrapped around Ronan in return, his hands gripping Ronan’s shoulders just as fiercely.

Ronan could’ve sworn he’d felt Declan trembling in his hold and that he was crying, too, but when Declan finally broke the hug and Ronan was pushed away, he looked up to see that there were no tears falling from Declan’s eyes. Instead, Declan had looked cold, almost mad, and then he had become the Declan Ronan hated.

 

* * *

 

When Ronan woke up, there was something in his hand and Noah was standing by the side of his bed. The ghost boy was silent, his brown eyes watchful, and Ronan got the unsettling feeling of being completely naked in all the ways he didn’t want, as if Noah could see past his skin to the fucked up person he really was.

In a hasty attempt to cover up his nervousness, Ronan sat up in bed and shoved Noah away from him. “What the hell are you looking at?”

Noah made a face at him, almost a grimace, as if Ronan had been the one to barge into his room. “I’m looking at you.”

“Don’t you mean you’re being a creep?”

Noah tilted his head. “What’s in your hand?”

Ronan tightened his fingers around the object. “Fuck off, Noah.”

“You should go talk to him.”

Ronan froze. And then a scowl came across his face. He reached back to grab his pillow and threw it at Noah. “Stop butting into people’s personal business.”

Noah caught the pillow and shrugged. Without another word, he set it at the foot of Ronan’s bed and left the room, closing the door behind him.

For a moment, Ronan could do nothing but stare at the door, half-expecting for it to open at any moment and for Noah to return with Gansey in tow. There was no way Noah knew. No way at all. But Ronan couldn’t help imagining that he did and even though Noah didn’t tell secrets, Ronan couldn’t help imagining that he did that, too, telling Gansey about what he’d done with Declan on Sunday and how the thought of it happening again had been enough to make him come in his pants without even touching himself. Ronan felt sick, aware of the morning wood he sprouted that twitched at the desire.

Even if it made Declan cry, he still wanted it. That was the most despicable part of it all.

He fell back on his bed. He hadn’t loosened his grip around the object in his hand, but rather than looking at it, he closed his eyes and felt the way it dug into his palm. He didn’t have to look to know what it was. It was a replica of the godforsaken ring he’d dreamt up for Declan as a present for his fifteenth birthday, a small silver thing with a blue gemstone. He doesn’t know why he’d thought it would be a good gift for Declan. Boys didn’t get rings for other boys, let alone brothers, and there’d been the fact that the ring had only fit around Declan’s ring finger when he’d tried it on. Ronan was sure he hadn’t known what it meant when he was younger and he tried not to think too much on the meaning now. It’d probably been for the best that Declan had given the ring away to one of his girlfriends—or at least, that’s what Ronan had told himself then. A part of him now liked to think that it wasn’t a new ring that he held, but the same one from before, taken back from the girl, Nancy or Natalie or whatever her name had been.

Curiosity pricked at him. Ronan sat up against the headboard and opened his hand to see rather or not the ring was an exact copy. It wasn’t. The ring easily fit around some of his fingers, not the size it had been, but slightly larger. Ronan got the uncomfortable feeling that if Declan tried it on, it would perfectly fit around his ring finger now.

Ronan swallowed. There was no way. He pressed his fingers into his stomach, clawing into the skin as if he could rip it open, and drew his knees up, biting into his lip as the discomfort increased. The murkiness of the dream he had pulled the ring out from was coming back to him. He and Declan had been having a sleepover in Declan’s bedroom the night of Declan’s fifteenth birthday (which had never happened. Declan had left with his friends that night and Ronan had laid awake for so long that he’d heard when Declan had returned).

Clarity formed, further fleshing out the details of the dream. They were both on Declan’s bed. Ronan was lying on his back. Declan kneeled by the window, outlined against the night; even though the front of him had been in shadows, the ring on his finger somehow managed to catch the moonlight, glinting an icy blue like an eye that returned Ronan’s stare as Declan moved his hand quickly up and down his hard dick. Ronan had started to ask something, but Declan had shushed him with a smile and a beckoning finger, and Ronan moved just in time for Declan to come on his face. Afterwards, Declan took the ring off his finger and pressed it into Ronan’s hand. Ronan had woken up just as he’d felt Declan’s tongue in his ear.

Ronan gasped. He could feel the pre-cum leaking out into his boxers. His lip was bleeding. He hadn’t even realized how hard he was biting it, and he licked at the blood, gulping it down as he tried to resist wrapping a hand around his cock and hating himself as he gave into the temptation. It didn’t take long for him to come, but Ronan was breathing hard as if it’d taken more effort to finish. He looked down and caught sight of the ring around one of the fingers he’d used to get himself off with.

For a heartbeat, Ronan could do nothing. And then he let go as if his hand had been burned. He stared at the cum on his sheets. Maybe Noah was right. He should talk to Declan.

 

* * *

 

The rain was falling down hard, but Ronan ran out of Monmouth Manufacturing without bothering to go back inside for an umbrella, not wanting to have to deal with more of Gansey’s questions or Noah’s gaze. He ran for his car, cursing as the keys slipped from his hands before he could unlock the doors. He bent down to retrieve them from the concrete. Quickly, he pressed the button and got into the BWM, starting the engine, fire running through his veins the way it did whenever he went drag racing. Except that drag racing had never mattered this fucking much to him.

The rain never let up the entire way to the dorms, pouring from the sky without end and turning into a drum of white noise. Ronan realized halfway there that he was leaning forward in his seat. As if somehow that would quicken the drive and cut short the time it would take.

Ronan was out of the car before he realized that he didn’t have a card to get in. Turning back, he opened the passenger side door and got inside to dig through the glove box, hoping that that was the last spot he had left his phone. Relief temporarily filled him as he caught sight of it underneath a road atlas Gansey had left behind and that he’d forgotten was there. Ronan turned on the phone and clicked through his contacts until he saw Declan’s name.

The ringing cut off sooner than he had expected. Then, there was Declan’s voice, sounding groggy through the phone as if he had just woken up, and part of Ronan realized that if he’d been more awake, Declan probably would’ve seen it was him by the caller ID and not answered. The thought only caused him to grip the phone tighter. In his ear, Declan was repeating another tired “hello?”

“I’m outside,” Ronan said, sharper than he’d meant to. His heartrate picked up.

There was silence.

If Declan hung up on him, Ronan was going to throw a rock through his window. He got out of the car, the rain loudly filling in the lack of response from Declan. He made his way to the door. “Come let me in.”

There was more silence.

“I’m going to stand in the rain until you open the door.”

“I’m—not.” Declan’s words were clipped, separated by a second of silence.

“Yes, you are.” Ronan scrambled for a foothold, found one, and said, “I’m going to get in either way. Matthew’s in science right now. I know where to find him. And I don’t care if I’m going to be interrupting whatever test he must be taking. You know I’d go in there and ask him for his card. I’ll be loud about it, too. And it’ll probably make him lose concentration. He’s going to fail his freaking whatever because of us.” _Shut up, shut up. Shut up._

Declan hung up.

Ronan let out a frustrated sound and threw the phone into the grass. This was why phones were fucking stupid. What was the point of them if they did nothing to help with communication? He glared at the scanner by the door. Maybe breaking it would do something. Even if the door didn’t open, there would probably be security cameras that would catch him doing it, and then Declan would be the one who’d have to pay the price, but Ronan swiped away the idea. Doing that would not win him any favors. He already felt like a stupid idiot for the Matthew threat. Declan probably believed that he would do that, but Ronan wouldn’t. At least, unless push really came to shove. He could always wait for passing period.

The door clicked opened.

Ronan stiffened. For a second, he avoided looking at Declan, although he could feel his brother’s eyes on him, probably seeing his bravado for the bullshit that it really was.

“Shouldn’t you be at school?” Declan’s voice was even. The words sounded as if they’d been carefully measured like some recipe for the stupid question.

“It’s the last day. Teachers do jack shit on the last day.” Ronan steadied himself and looked up. The door was only opened enough so that Declan could slightly lean his head out. It frustrated Ronan. Here he was, completely drenched, and Declan was dry and warm and closing him out yet again. He had enough of it.

His mouth twisted into a half-scowl as he lunged forward to try and pull open the door, but Declan’s hands were holding tight to the door knob on the other side, keeping him from doing so, which only infuriated Ronan even more. He wanted to yell something, anything, but the rainfall was clogging up his ears and now he was remembering the crying Declan he’d left behind the last time he’d seen him, and Ronan thought of the text he’d gotten from Matthew the other day excitedly announcing that Declan had gotten some stupid job position in D.C. He’d lost Declan countless times before. And now he was losing Declan all over again. The fight was leaving his body. He’d never had Declan back in the first place.

Just as he was about to give up, the door gave away wide enough that Ronan could have pushed past Declan into the hallway, which Declan probably thought he was going to do, because the next thing Ronan knew, Declan was reaching out a hand to shove him further back into the rain. Anger flickered in Ronan, causing a fast response. He clutched the front of Declan’s shirt in his hand as he fell backwards, bringing Declan along with him. The back of his head slammed into the stones of the walkway. Ronan had only a moment to wince at the pain before he felt Declan’s knee digging into his side as Declan caught himself above him. He was probably going to find a bruise there later on, but that was only a passing thought as he realized the situation for what it was: Declan on all fours above him.

That also turned into a passing thought when Declan punched him. “What the fuck did you do that for?”

Ronan tasted blood in his mouth and the rain was dropping onto his face. Instinct kicked in and before Declan could react, Ronan shifted the momentum so that Declan was the one caught underneath him. He glared at his brother. “I could be asking you the same thing.”

Declan glared back. It was so different from any of the ways he’d looked at Ronan in his Volvo. Ronan almost found himself relishing it. Dickhead Declan had finally returned. He could feel Declan struggling to move underneath him, but Ronan held his ground and then Declan resorted to the last tool in his arsenal and spat at Ronan, the saliva making no difference in the rain.

The move was so amateur that Ronan could only roll his eyes. “What the fuck, Declan.”

“I didn’t bring my keycard with me, you idiot!” Declan managed to get an arm free and Ronan let Declan shove him off him. “How are we supposed to get back inside?”

Ronan refused to be blamed. “You weren’t going to let me in anyways!”

“Well, now there’s no chance of either of us being in there thanks to you!”

Before Ronan could say anything, Declan pushed his head to the side and stood up, frustration etched into his frown and narrowed eyes. “I don’t want to hear anything about interrupting Matthew during class.”

Ronan looked up at Declan. For a moment, he couldn’t speak, taking in the sight of the way Declan’s wet pajamas clung to his body and the way his bangs almost fell over his eyes—eyes that turned to glare at him, which broke Ronan out of his staring. He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t going to say that.”

Declan crossed his arms. “Tell me your plan. I’m sure it must be brilliant.”

The sarcasm was intended to bite, but Ronan was too unsure to be bothered by it. He opened his mouth, hesitated, and said, “You could come back to Monmouth Manufacturing with me.”

Declan let out something that sounded like a laugh. “I’m not going with you to that warehouse.”

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe I’m going with you to that warehouse. Does that place even have a proper heating system? Or is it as crappy as your car’s? You know what? I already know the answer. That place is a shithole. I’m only going to stay until Matthew gets out of school. Then, we’re going to pick him up and you’re taking me back. I had plans to finishing my packing today, Ronan, and then you fucking got me locked out. I left the door to the room opened for Christ’s sake! You better hope nobody comes in and steals anything. Do you know how upset Matthew’s going to be if one of his trophies gets stolen? And _why_ would you throw your phone out into the rain like that? Don’t you ever use your brain? I almost wished we were penniless, because then at least you’d know not to go around destroying things whenever you get pissed off. It's so fucking wasteful. We could’ve used that damn phone to get out of this mess. I wouldn’t have to— Actually, drop me off somewhere else. I know a couple of people who— _What the hell are you smiling for?_ ”

Ronan pressed his lips together to keep his smile from widening. “Sorry, Declan.”

His brother looked absolutely livid. His words had gotten more and more heated and louder throughout the drive. Ronan knew how well Declan could lecture, but he hadn’t expected it to be possible for Declan to be fuming for this long, not once having stopped his ranting, and now they were close to Monmouth Manufacturing and he still wouldn’t shut up. For once in his life, Ronan liked it. Although he was pretty sure if he hadn’t been the one driving the car that Declan would’ve strangled him a long time ago.

Declan looked close to strangling him now, driver or not, his breathing heavy as he glared daggers at Ronan.

“It’s just…” Ronan trailed off. “You won’t stop talking.”

“What?” Declan demanded. “And you think that’s funny?”

“I… No.” Ronan shook his head. Was he really going to say it? “The last time we were in a car together. You… You wouldn’t say anything.” _And you were crying and you let me put my fingers in your mouth._ He kept his eyes on the road, unable to say any more, hoping he’d been too quiet that Declan hadn’t heard him over the rain, but by the intense silence that followed, he knew that he’d been heard. He shouldn’t have said anything.

When Declan spoke again, his voice was low. The tone of it was as chilly as the rain had been on Ronan’s skin, raising goosebumps. “That was a mistake.”

Ronan felt as if he’d been slapped. “Looked a lot like it was on purpose if you ask me.”

“No one’s asking you.”

Ronan’s hands tightened around the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. He made a sharp turn into the parking lot and made a halting stop in front of Monmouth Manufacturing that had the BMW rocking back-and-forth. He unlocked the door and immediately Declan was moving to get out, but Ronan reached over to grab one of his hands between his. He unclenched his jaw, watched Declan’s eyes widen and the way his body tensed, and rubbed a thumb gently across Declan’s palm. “Please Declan. We don’t have to talk about—that, but I wish…” He took a deep breath. “I wish that you would open up. Tell me about other things. Or it doesn’t even have to be me that you talk to. I know I’m a terrible listener, and talker, but I… I don’t want you to cry by yourself anymore,” he finished softly. He let go of Declan’s hand.

Declan got out of the car.

Ronan closed his eyes against the sound of the door shutting. His chest felt like it was constricting. He wanted to throw up. His body ached with all sorts of pain. He felt exhausted. The words had taken a lot to say and he wanted to sit in the car until it stopped raining or he was able to be a living human being again, but he could see that Declan was already standing at the top of the stairs, waiting for him to come and open the door. Ronan shouldn’t have cared, but that was enough to get him out of the BMW and swallowing past the lump in his throat.

His eyes flickered up to Declan as he walked up the staircase. Declan wasn’t looking at him and he didn’t look at Declan. He opened the door and Declan followed him inside. Everything was suffocating. He needed alcohol. A lot of it. “Do you want a beer?”

“I want warm clothes.”

Ronan tried to ignore the way Declan’s voice sounded. It was too controlled, as if he was trying to hide everything. Ronan felt like shaking Declan by the shoulders. Hadn’t he heard anything Ronan had said in the car? Stiffly, he started to raise a hand to point Declan in the direction of the bedrooms, but then he realized that Declan was turned away from him, his face pointed in the direction of the large floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the wall to their right where Gansey’s bed was. The world was nothing but gray.

“There are clothes in my bedroom. I bet you can guess which one that is.” His words didn’t sound as empty as Declan’s, but they were close.

He watched Declan walk off, only able to catch the slight way Declan’s brows furrowed at the sight of the speeding tickets covering his bedroom door, and he almost felt something like amusement at the slip of frustration.

The beer cans were hidden underneath a tile in the bathroom. Noah had told Ronan about it when Gansey had expressed how much he didn’t appreciate the beer being out in the open (let alone, his stance against Ronan’s underage drinking). Gansey still had yet to notice the tile. Ronan took out the entire six pack in case Declan did want one, but even if he didn’t, Ronan planned to drink through the whole thing. While he was in the bathroom, Ronan changed into some clothes from the hamper and grabbed a towel on the way to his bedroom.

The door to Noah’s room was opened, revealing a blank and empty interior, and Declan had left Ronan’s door opened, so that Ronan could see that Declan had already changed. He’d been about to say something to announce himself, but he forgot the words as he fully took in the sight of Declan in his clothes. It was only a pair of sweats and a loose black T-shirt. It shouldn’t have made him feel the way that he did, like there was no distance between them and that there’d never been. They’d used to share clothes interchangeably, but that’d been a long time ago.

Declan was holding something in his hands.

Horrified, Ronan remembered that he’d left the ring on his bed. He cursed himself for having thrown it so carelessly onto the blankets rather than hiding it somewhere. Holding his breath, Ronan peeked around the door to check if he was wrong, but the ring was gone. Maybe Noah had snuck into his room and stolen it, or Gansey had pocketed it in curiosity. God, he hoped so. Ronan took a step back, accidentally dropping one of the cans onto the ground. It landed with a loud noise that felt like a gunshot. “Shit.” He kneeled down and picked up the can, seeing that it had cracked on the side.

He was sucking at the side to salvage the leaking beer when Declan appeared at the doorway, his expression twisting as he looked down at him. “What are you doing?”

He was being judgmental, but least he didn’t sound like a robot anymore. Ronan’s eyes flickered to Declan’s hands. They were holding nothing and there was no ring on any of his fingers. Relieved, Ronan tossed Declan the towel and stood back up. “For you.”

Declan’s hair came away ruffled after he dried it.

Ronan stopped himself from running his fingers through it.

Declan rubbed the towel across his arms and around his neck.

Ronan clenched the can with his hand, feeling the beer dripping onto his fingers and down his arm, but he didn’t care. This was too much. He needed to stick head his underneath a cold shower, scream into a pillow, chuck the can of beer against the wall, anything other than stand there and watch Declan wipe his face.

He moved a second before Declan said, “I noticed your lip.”

Ronan went still, unsure if he’d heard correctly. “What?”

Declan’s face was buried in the towel. His voice was muffled when he spoke again. “Who do you think about when you do that to yourself?”

Ronan stared. Beer dripped from his elbow. “Declan… I’m not going to answer, but if you ask me again, I’m not going to lie to you.”

Declan buried his face deeper into the towel, his shoulders hunching up more and more as he withdrew in on himself. “I went to St. Agnes for Confession.”

Ronan didn’t know what to do. He knew what he wanted to do: reach out and touch Declan, but even though his brother was so close and telling him these things, he’d never felt further away. Stupidly, he asked, “On Sunday?”

Declan nodded.

“And that day I saw you crying?”

Declan nodded again.

Ronan squeezed his eyes shut. “I know what you confess.” It wasn’t a question. He didn’t need to see Declan nod to know that he was right. He moved to quietly place the beer cans down on the ground, his hands feeling too full with the wrong things. When he stood back up, he saw that Declan’s shoulders were shaking. Ronan’s heart ached. “Declan, I don’t want to make you cry anymore. We…”

 _We can pretend these feelings never existed._ He couldn’t say the words. He didn’t want to play dumb—especially now when it was becoming increasingly clear that Declan felt the same. What was wrong with him that he wanted what tore Declan up inside like this?

Ronan tried again, but there was only a long silence where he was unable to and Declan continued to quietly cry into the towel. He scrambled to think of what else to do. He should have drunk more of the beer. Not that that would improve anything, but at least then his mind wouldn’t be a huge blank, because the beer would be stimulating actual thoughts. He should have learned from the last time, should have come up with a list of things to do if Declan ever cried in front of him, but he hadn’t considered the possibility that Declan would cry in front of him again so soon.

Desperately, he looked around, as if the answer would pop up in front of him, and his attention zeroed in on the sight of his bed. “Do you want to lie down?”

Declan didn’t answer.

With a start, Ronan corrected himself. “I didn’t mean it like—” He winced. “Resting. You can rest and I’ll go get us some breakfast. How’s that?” He leaned back on his heels, frustrated with himself. The suggestion was a wreck, but to his relief, Declan nodded.

 

* * *

 

Ronan stepped back into Monmouth Manufacturing, picked up the bag of take-out he’d placed on the ground, and closed the umbrella. Raindrops splattered against the walls. He kicked the door shut with a foot, muffling the sound of the endless rain, which became replaced with the quiet interior of the warehouse. He looked around to see if Noah had shown up, half-wishing that he would, but it was only himself standing in the large space.

Declan was in his room, lying still in the bed, buried underneath the blankets, his face tucked into the covers with only his hair visible against the pillow. For a moment, Ronan could only stand at the doorway as he tried to comprehend the reality of Declan asleep in his bed, a tornado of feelings whirling around in his gut at the sight. They never shared spaces like this anymore. He’d forgotten what it had felt like and thought back to when they were younger. It’d usually been him sneaking into Declan’s bed, but there’d been occasions when Declan had been in his. Ronan felt his face heat up as he recalled the dream from last night. Things had never been like that. He pushed the dream from his mind.

The bag ruffled in his hands as he forced himself to move again and was slightly surprised when the sound caused Declan to look up at him. Their eyes met for a moment before Declan looked away and sat up, slouching over to look down.

More tentatively than he would have liked, Ronan got onto the bed, sitting apart from his brother and removing the take-out boxes from the bag to put it in the space between them. “I got pancakes,” he said, weakly. “They gave us packets of stuff to put on them, too. And there’s hash browns.”

Declan reached out to take a box. He looked like he was fighting back the urge to cry, but before Ronan could think of what to do, Declan let out a straightforward “thanks.”

“It’s nothing.” This was going to be difficult. Ronan flipped the bag over, spilling out the packets of syrup and—ketchup? He did a double-take, catching sight of the strawberry on the label, and felt his belly drop with nerves. Strawberry jam. Ronan’s mind spun. He hadn’t asked for any, but the lady at the diner had recognized him as Declan’s brother from the other day. Declan was probably a freaking regular there and she’d put it in thinking of him. He looked up, saw Declan staring, something like shock or anger or both on his face, and tripped over himself to explain, reaching out to put the packets of jam back in the bag. “I— This isn’t on purpose, Declan. I only asked for syrup. It’s not—It’s not the way it looks.”

Declan’s expression turned to steel. “Fuck me.”

“I know, right? Uh, it’s pretty bad luck.” Ronan laughed nervously. It felt so wrong. He couldn’t remember ever letting out a fucking nervous laugh before. He bit his lip.

Declan was looking at him. His eyes were slightly red from crying and narrowed in not quite a glare, but it was close. “No, Ronan. _Fuck me_.”

Ronan couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t. He was biting his lip so hard that it was bleeding again. Declan moved, Ronan flinching backwards last minute as he realized how close his brother was nearing towards him, and a second after Declan licked at his bottom lip, and then he was sucking on it, at the blood, and Ronan opened his mouth to let out a shaky breath. His cock twitched in his pants. He felt a hand rubbing at it through the fabric, unsure if the hand was his or Declan’s.

Declan pulled away.

Ronan snapped out of it, prepared to see Declan crying again. There was none of that, but reality dawned on Ronan. He couldn’t do this. Not now. Not with the high possibility that Declan would hate him and himself afterwards. The cycle would only repeat. Ronan tightened his jaw, trying to push away the desire in his gut as he watched Declan walk to the drawer in the corner of the room. “Declan.”

Declan ignored him, opening through the drawers, looking for who-knows-what.

Ronan stood up. “Declan,” he repeated. His legs felt shaky underneath him and then Declan was throwing him something. Ronan caught it. It was a bottle of something. Lotion? His eyes widened as he caught sight of the word “lubricant.” “What the fuck, Declan? Where’d you get this?”

“Don’t ask me. This is your room.” Declan turned around, a condom packet in his hand.

Ronan wanted to hit a pause button, so that he could try and figure out what the hell was happening. He pressed a hand to his forehead. “Declan.”

“What?” The word was vicious like piranha or a wild dog, snapping its teeth.

Ronan shook his head. “We’re not doing this.”

“ _What?_ ”

He stood his ground as Declan approached him, looking ready to fight. “We are not having sex. I don’t want you to hate it afterwards or during it or any of that. You’re going to regret it.”

Declan twisted Ronan’s shirt between his hands and yanked him towards him, close enough that Ronan could feel his body heat. “Listen, Ronan. The only thing I regret is that I didn’t do this sooner. You have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted this. No idea at all. And then dad died and I had to take over for him and you turned into a huge pain in the ass and I had this stupid idea of sin absolutely ruining me. I’m fucking sick of having to ask for forgiveness and resisting stupid temptation. _I hate it_. Those fucking goddamn jam packets are the last straw. I don’t care if it makes me weak to give in. I don’t care if you’re my brother. I’m going to hell anyways. And I’m not going to cry about it anymore. So if that’s what you’re suddenly all worried about, then there’s no reason to be, but if you actually don’t want this, then I’m going to leave and you’re never going to bring this up again for breaking my heart, Ronan.”

Ronan grinned. “Isn’t that what I do best?”

Declan pulled him into a hug. “You are such a shithead.”

“A shithead you want to fuck.” Ronan couldn’t stop smiling.

Declan’s mouth was by his ear. “Does the shithead want to fuck me?”

Ronan buried his face into the crook of Declan’s neck and wrapped his arms tight around his back. The bottle of lube fell to their feet. “Yeah.” A shiver ran through him as Declan bit at his earlobe. “I do.” Declan stroked a hand down his spine. “A lot.” Declan’s tongue was in his ear. “Oh God, Declan. I’ve wanted this for the longest time, too.”

Declan’s hand paused at the small of his back. His lips brushed Ronan’s jaw as he asked, “How long?”

Ronan couldn’t think straight enough to remember. “I don’t know. Since I was thirteen, I think?”

“Holy shit.” Declan let out a breathy sound that could’ve been a laugh, but if it was, it was the most humorless laugh Ronan had ever heard.

Ronan pressed Declan closer to him. “I thought I was so fucked up.”

“We _are_ fucked up.” Declan’s hands moved into his boxers and Ronan sunk his fingertips further into Declan’s back as he felt Declan cup his ass. “I realized that as soon as I liked touching you so much.”

“You didn’t touch me that much.”

“Exactly.” Declan pressed a kiss to his neck as he pulled his hands out from Ronan’s pants. “Now I’m going to touch you as much as I want.”

Ronan grabbed the bottom of Declan’s shirt and pulled it up. Declan took a slight step back, letting him take it off. Ronan looked down at the sweatpants and hesitated before hooking his fingers around the elastic band at the waist. He could tell by the way that Declan snorted that he’d noticed the hesitation and then Declan’s hands were over his. The pants came off. There were boxer briefs underneath, but Ronan could see that Declan was already half-hard and knowing that—that Declan got hard because of him—made him feel powerful, the same sort of powerful that he felt behind the wheel of a fast car or when he’d jumped from the sea cliffs he’d gone to with Gansey one summer before things had turned to shit.

He pulled down Declan’s briefs.

Things were definitely not shitty anymore.

“Checking out the forbidden fruit?” Declan asked and Ronan realized with a blush that he’d been staring.

He made a move to get on his knees, but Declan stopped him.

“What’s the rush? We haven’t even made out yet.”

“Is there some rule that kissing has to come before blowjobs?” Ronan couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop thinking about what Declan’s cock would feel like in his mouth, couldn’t help wanting to get it fully erect. He was more in the mood to make out with Declan’s dick.

“No.” Declan took Ronan’s chin between his fingers and tilted his face upwards. “There’s no rule. I just want to kiss you,” he said, carefully.

Ronan kissed him. The realization that this was the first proper kiss he’d had with Declan—that he’d had with anyone—was there for a second, but gone the next as he lost himself to the softness of Declan’s lips moving against his, the kiss tasting slightly like the blood from earlier. He felt clumsy, hoped Declan wouldn’t notice, and then Declan’s tongue was there, slipping between his lips.

“Wait.” Ronan pulled away, an idea occurring to him. He moved Declan towards the bed, put his hand on Declan’s shoulder to get him to sit down, and reached for one of the packets of strawberry jam.

Declan watched him, confused, as Ronan opened the packet and squirted the jam into his mouth. He didn’t swallow, putting his lips back against Declan’s and opening his mouth so that the jam was there as the kiss deepened. The sensation of Declan’s tongue against his was slightly strange, but in a way Ronan wanted more of, and he wasn’t sure how to move his own tongue, but he wanted to get better at it. The kiss was flavored by the jam they exchanged, more artificial than the one Declan had sucked from his fingers, but still just as sweet.

They were both breathless by the end of it. Declan’s cheeks were the same color as they’d been when Ronan had first seen him getting the blowjob in the attic and he had wanted to be the one down on his knees. His heart expanded in his chest. “Good?” he asked.

Declan nodded, already in the process of bringing him in for another kiss. “More than good.”

They kissed some more. Declan undressed him as they did, and then he pulled Ronan onto his lap. Ronan squirmed at the skin-on-skin contact. He felt dizzy with disbelief that it was actually happening, being naked with Declan. The sensation of his brother’s dick against his ass and his own dick pressed up against Declan’s stomach was more than distracting, which only grew even more distracting when Declan would accidentally push up onto him every once in a while; however, once Declan’s grinding could no longer be seen as anything but purposeful, Ronan pulled away and eyed him suspiciously.

Declan played innocent, but a corner of his mouth was slightly quirked up, so tiny that Ronan probably wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t a few inches away from Declan’s face. “What?”

“You know exactly what’s going on.”

Declan shrugged and kissed his shoulder. “Have you ever been fucked?”

Slowly, Ronan shook his head. “No.”

“Oh. So you’ve only been the fucker?”

Ronan shifted uneasily. He’d been half-aware of it when they’d started kissing, but it was only now that he was fully aware of just how inexperienced he was—especially in comparison to Declan. Declan who had probably done everything whilst the most Ronan had ever done was masturbate to pictures and videos and his own stupid imagination. And now the period of time for him to give an answer without appearing self-conscious was gone and Declan was no longer kissing him across his chest.

Ronan considered avoiding his brother’s eyes, but that would’ve made him appear even more insecure, so he didn’t look away as Declan considered him, realizing too late how tense he was in Declan’s arms.

“Ronan…” Declan pressed a kiss to his mouth. His lips brushed against Ronan’s as he softly asked, “Is this your first time?”

Ronan placed a hand behind Declan’s head, tangling his fingers in his hair, so that Declan wouldn’t be able to pull away from his lips. He nodded as they kissed.

Declan spoke between kisses. “But I thought— The condoms—and the lube? Aren’t they yours?”

Ronan shook his head.

Declan smiled against his mouth. “How convenient.”

“Just shut up and kiss me, Declan.”

Declan placed a hand over his mouth.

Ronan leaned back to protest, but stopped when he saw how serious Declan was.

“Ronan, if there’s anything you’re not comfortable with or don’t know how do, I don’t want you feeling too intimidated to ask. It’s good to ask questions. It’ll help you learn and the more you do it, the better you’ll get. Everyone starts out unsure how to do things. As long as you’re enjoying yourself, that’s all that matters. Don’t sweat it with the details, alright?”

Ronan rolled his eyes, hoping he didn’t look as embarrassed as he felt. “Declan, if I wanted a lesson, I would have gone to school.”

Declan sighed. “Be serious, Ronan. I’m telling you something important.”

“And I get it.” Ronan knocked aside his hand and gave Declan another kiss.

“So you’ll tell me if you’re unsure about something?”

“Fine.”

“And you’ll ask if you have any questions?”

“Okay, okay. I will.” Ronan bit Declan’s top lip between his teeth, hard enough to get the message across that he wanted Declan to shut up. “You’re being a major turn off right now, Declan.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I know I’m fucking my older brother, but I don’t want to fuck with the annoying side of my older brother.”

“Hey, it’s all a part of the package.”

“That’s—” Ronan cut off, his breath hitching as Declan wrapped his left hand around Ronan’s dick and started to stroke him. His grip was soft but firm and it was so different from Ronan doing it by himself, and it was _Declan_ doing it, and then his hand was gone too soon. Ronan groaned. “Declan.”

There was a smirk in Declan’s voice. “I thought I was turning you off.”

Ronan pushed him backwards onto the bed and glared. “Stop being a dick.”

“I can’t be having you come so soon.” Declan shifted under him, shoving away the forgotten takeout boxes of pancakes and moving further up so that his entire body was on the bed. He made a circling gesture with his pointer finger. “Turn the other way.”

“Why?”

“So that we can suck each other off.”

“Just say ‘69,’” Ronan said, but he turned around, heart thumping loudly in his chest. How did a person give good head?

“No one says ‘69’ in bed, Ronan. Mark that down,” Declan said, and soon afterwards Ronan felt his mouth around his cock.

Ronan struggled to keep himself upright. It was even more different than having someone else’s hand jacking him off. This was a new feeling completely. The hand was warm, but with the mouth, Ronan could feel nothing but warmness and it was slick and the sucking felt so good. Declan did something with his tongue at the tip of his dick and his fingers at the base of it that had Ronan moaning loudly. He almost forgot about Declan’s own erection and feebly tried to focus on it, but his own mouth had barely touched anything when he began to feel his cock twitch with an approaching orgasm.

“Declan. Declan. I’m going to come.”

Declan pulled his mouth away. “Not yet.”

“Not yet?” Ronan groaned. “Stop being such a tease.”

“You need to build up your stamina,” Declan started, but he didn’t finish because a second later, Ronan was pressing his forehead onto Declan’s hip as he came. He was panting afterwards, mind blank with pleasure, before he remembered that he’d just came all over Declan’s face. Eyes wide, Ronan turned back around, ready to apologize, but other than the bit at the edge of Declan's mouth that he licked away, there was no cum on his face at all.

“Did you swallow it?” Ronan didn’t know why he was so surprised by this.

Declan looked slightly confused. “You don’t want me to?”

Ronan shook his head. “It’s not that.”

A smile came across Declan’s face and he waved Ronan over. “Come here.”

Ronan moved closer, letting himself be pulled into another kiss, but this one was different from the others for all the obvious reasons as he tasted himself on Declan’s lips and on his tongue and across the roof of his mouth. Some of the texture was still there. Ronan wasn’t sure he liked it. It reminded him of boogers that were slightly salty and felt just as gross, but since it was Declan, he kissed longer than he would have otherwise, busying himself with running his fingers through Declan’s hair as he did.

When he pulled away, Ronan saw that Declan had been jerking himself off during the kiss. He felt guilty that he hadn’t given Declan the same pleasure he’d been given. Even though Declan had told him to let him know when he was uncertain, Ronan still felt too embarrassed to admit that he didn’t know how to give a blowjob without fucking up.

“Here.” Ronan reached to take over, but Declan kept his hand away. Ronan was hit with anxiousness. Maybe Declan thought he wouldn’t even be able to give a hand job without fucking up.

“Where’s the lube?”

“I can do it without the lube,” Ronan mumbled. He felt pathetic and hurt like some kid who’d been pushed in the playground.

Declan let out a little laugh, causing Ronan to feel even more useless. “Don’t be an idiot, Ronan. I’m not letting you stick your fingers in my ass without it.”

Ronan’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“The lube?”

“I— Yeah. Let me… It’s— I dropped it. Earlier.”

Declan raised an eyebrow.

“Shut up.” Ronan could feel himself blushing.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Ronan got off the bed, more clumsily than he would’ve wanted, but Declan didn’t comment on it. He picked up the bottle of lube from its spot on the ground and turned around to see that Declan had propped himself up on his elbows and was watching him, which on its own wouldn’t have been surprising if it hadn’t been for the existence of something new in his expression. It was as if he were seeing something that was deeply perplexing, or something that he didn’t know how to feel about. Fear slowed Ronan on the way back. Maybe Declan was regretting it after all. Maybe he was going to ask them to stop. “What’s wrong?”

Declan looked up from his chest, the blue of his eyes piercing as they met Ronan’s. “Your tattoo.”

“Oh.” Now that Ronan thought about it, there hadn’t been a moment when Declan had ever seen his bare back, not before during their confrontations when he’d always been wearing clothes, and not even now when his back had always been turned away. Out of everything, that was what finally caused him to realize how much had been lost between them, the strangers they had become to each other, distant and then cruel and then both even as they’d secretly lusted for each other. Ronan sat down on the bed with his back to Declan, letting him take in the sight of the inky black tattoo filled with flowers and Celtic knots and monsters and other details Ronan had forgotten about. It’d been a long time since he’d last laid eyes on the design when he’d pulled it from his dreams.

There was a gentle finger on his back as Declan traced along the tattoo. “It’s so…” The finger paused. “You.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

For a moment, there was silence, punctuated by a kiss to his right shoulder blade. Goosebumps radiated from the spot of skin. “I dream about you,” Declan said and Ronan got the feeling of being in a confessional, separated from Declan by a screen, the priest to listen to Declan’s confessions.

He wasn’t sure he liked that. “Wet dreams?” he asked, more out of a desire to break out of the feeling than actual curiosity.

Declan let out a little noise that was almost a hum. “Sometimes.” There was another kiss, this time to Ronan’s left shoulder blade. “My brain tries to figure out what your tattoo looks like. I’ve seen so many possible designs. None of them have gotten close to this.” There was a hand moving down his back and Ronan resisted the urge to turn. “It’s funny though. I didn’t need to see this to know that everything I thought up was wrong.”

Ronan turned around.

Declan looked like he was miles away.

Ronan kissed him, not stopping until he was sure he had brought his brother— _his Declan_ —back. Declan’s hands came up to cup his face between them, the hold safe and sure. As Ronan ran one of his hands through Declan’s hair, part of him wished that he still had locks for Declan to run his fingers through.

He tossed the lube onto the bed before running his fingers down Declan’s stomach and across his hips to wrap them around Declan’s dick. It was hard in his hand and felt more delicate than Ronan’s own dick had ever felt to him, because at least with his own he knew what felt wrong and what felt right. It was different with Declan. Ronan didn’t know what to do, didn’t want to handle him too roughly or too gently, and he tightened his fingers in Declan’s hair in frustration, wrenching Declan’s head backwards and causing a slight whine to spill from Declan’s mouth into his. The sound encouraged him. He remembered Declan’s words, advising him to enjoy himself, so he started thrusting his hand along Declan’s dick, keeping a fast, unrelenting rhythm that Ronan knew that he himself liked.

“Is this good?” he asked.

The question was unnecessary. He could feel pre-cum, slippery in his fingers, and by the way Declan’s breaths were quickening and falling against his lips, Ronan could tell that it was good. Declan nodded in confirmation.

Ronan twisted his hand. This brought out a loud moan from Declan and it took only a couple more twists and thrusts until Declan was coming between them. Some of the cum landed on Ronan’s thigh. He dipped a finger into it and stuck the finger into his mouth to taste. Somehow, Declan’s cum was sweeter than his.

Declan watched him with a small smile before he leaned forward to kiss him. “That was perfect, Ronan.”

“Good. I want it to be perfect.” Ronan moved forward, gently lying Declan back against the bed. He kissed him on the neck, sucking tentatively on the skin. “For you.”

Declan let out a breathy half-moan, the sound approving, and Ronan sucked harder at a spot below his ear, eliciting another. “Honestly Ronan? Knowing it’s you who’s touching me is more than enough.”

Ronan grinned. He moved further up to straddle Declan and could feel the movement of Declan’s stomach beneath his ass as he breathed, quick and shallow. He let himself soak in the sight of Declan, because Declan was his, and he was beautiful, face still the pale shade of red, pink lips slightly swollen from their kisses, dark brown hair unruly from Ronan’s fingers, and blue eyes that gazed back at him in return. It was as if Declan had absorbed all the colors in the world. Everything else paled in comparison and Ronan felt himself ache with longing, which had somehow increased even though Declan was on his bed, with him, and was no longer a part of his imagination.

Declan’s hands stroked along his thighs. There was a wordless question in the touch.

Ronan’s heart squeezed in his chest. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He could see that he had caught Declan off-guard by the way his hands stilled and through the way his eyes quickly widened. Ronan felt embarrassed. Maybe people didn’t say sentimental shit like that and he was just proving even more to Declan how much of a virgin he was, but he refused to take it back or pass it off as a joke.

Then, a part of him wondered if Declan was surprised because no one else had ever said those words to him before when he’d been in their beds. Even though he knew it was irrational, Ronan felt angry. Those people had Declan more easily than he ever had, but that they’d probably been too ungrateful to cherish the fact that Declan was with them, made him want to break something. Ronan tried to calm himself with the fact that it was all a hypothetical, but then he remembered the piece of shit he’d met mouth fucking Declan. That guy definitely wasn’t the type of person who’d say that. Or at least, not in the way it would matter.

“Me too.”

Ronan snapped out of his thoughts.

Declan’s hands were gone from his thighs and covering his face.

Ronan felt pulled two separate ways, Declan’s words echoing in his memory in contrast to the way Declan’s breaths were now too purposely even. Happiness and concern fought inside of him. He pressed a kiss to the back of each of Declan’s hands. “I don’t want you to regret this,” he confessed.

Declan was silent, still hidden underneath his hands. Then, he said, quietly but firmly, “I don’t regret this. You make it very hard to, Ronan.”

“Oh yeah?” Ronan ran his hands across Declan’s chest, rubbed his nipples underneath his fingers, and smirked as a smothered sound came out from Declan.

The sound ended in a low growl, needy and raw. “Fuck me already.”

Ronan kissed Declan on the chin before he got off him, grabbing the bottle of lube and squeezing some onto his fingers. The bed shifted underneath him as he moved back to Declan and watched as Declan drew up his knees and parted his legs for him. Ronan allowed himself only a moment to falter, both to take in the reality of the new sight and to push aside the hesitation that bloomed in him, before he was sitting between Declan’s legs. He moved a hand up-and-down Declan’s dick, which was now mostly soft, buying himself more time as he tried to figure out how to start, but he was too uncertain. Ronan let out a cough, submitting to defeat. “Do I start out with one finger?”

“Two should be fine,” Declan said.

Ronan repositioned himself, slowing down the hand he had on Declan’s dick as he refocused his attention on his brother’s asshole. He swallowed, his heart speeding up and his mouth going dry. Even in his fantasies, he’d never thought this far, and actually being in the situation was so, so different from seeing it in porn. He reached out, paused, and then traced two of his lubricated fingers around the opening, feeling Declan twitch from the touch. Ronan let out a heavy breath as he readied himself to stick in the fingers, but before he did, he looked up. Declan’s hands were still covering his face.

Ronan withdrew his fingers. “Watch me, Declan.” The words were a command.

A second passed. Declan removed his hands. And where Ronan expected to see teary eyes, he got instead Declan’s completely red cheeks. Ronan stared. Throughout their whole time together so far, Declan had always been so self-assured and confident, and he’d done this with others before, so Ronan was baffled at Declan’s embarrassment as Declan avoided his eyes and his blush deepened in color. Without thinking, Ronan slipped a single finger into Declan, watching as Declan’s face scrunched up in response. Ronan could only think about how it felt, the inside of Declan tight around his finger, like nothing he’d ever felt, before a realization occurred to him.

“Declan… Is this your first time doing this?”

Did he have it? Ronan waited expectantly, but Declan shook his head and furrowed his eyebrows. “Being penetrated? No. It’s not my first time.”

“Really?” Experimentally, Ronan wiggled his finger inside of Declan, heard Declan let out a gasp, and continued doing it. “Then why do you look like some blushing Amish maiden who’s just seen some guy’s bare chest for the first time or something?”

Declan pressed a fist to his mouth, agony and pleasure at war in his eyes. “Are you really making me spell it out for you, Ronan?”

Ronan curled his finger, mentally keeping a record of how much Declan liked that, and then he pulled it out, sitting back in frustration. “Spell what out?”

“You!”

"Me?”

“Holy fuck, Ronan.” Declan let out a groan. “It’s because it’s you! Because you’re saying unnecessary things and I’m thinking about you fucking me and that’s why I look like some fucking maiden blushing doing—doing—whatever you said! Oh my fucking god, I can’t believe I’m saying this. I can’t believe I said it! You’re a dumbass. You’re an absolute moron.”

Ronan was grinning so hard. He put two fingers into Declan and sunk them all the way in. “When we were in my car and I was telling you to let me in, I didn’t mean it like this, you know.”

“Shut. Up.” Declan rolled his eyes, but Ronan could tell that he was holding back a smile. “You owe me a kiss for that dumbass comment.”

“You’re going to have to come get it. I’m busy.”

“You’re a little shit.” Declan said, but he sat up.

Ronan moved forward to meet him halfway. The kiss deepened immediately, only cutting off periodically whenever Ronan would do something with his fingers that would make Declan gasp or shudder. As they kissed, Ronan blindly applied more lube to his fingers and his ring finger joined his middle and pointer finger as he reinserted them back into Declan, which made Declan accidentally bite down on his tongue, but he didn’t care and Declan didn’t apologize. They were both getting hard, and after a moment, Declan threw back his head, panting, as he told Ronan between breaths to go get a condom.

Ronan almost didn’t to. It took effort to tear himself away from Declan, but when Declan avoided his kiss and insisted for him to go, Ronan got up from the bed, quickly making his way over to the drawer. Thankfully, Declan had left the one with the condoms in it opened, so he didn’t have to search through them. He grabbed the whole box, the idea of reaching in just to get one not worth the trouble. He hurried back to Declan and his kisses and his parted legs. The eagerness in Ronan increased more and more with each second as he dumped the packets onto the bed and Declan took one and opened it and put the condom on Ronan’s cock and lubricated it and there was a moment where they looked at each other, time going still with the anticipation of what they were going to do, and then Declan was leaning back onto a pillow and Ronan was over him, nuzzling his face into Declan’s neck, before he sat back on his heels and lined the tip of his dick with Declan’s opening, and he held his breath, and pushed in.

“ _Fuck_. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuuuuuck.” It was so good, so good. Ronan stopped halfway in, unable to take it. The inside of Declan was warm and tight and the way Ronan felt the muscles contracting around his dick was nothing like what a hand could ever do. It was better. He felt Declan’s legs move and then the next thing Ronan knew, they were wrapping tight around his waist and pressing him closer and Ronan sunk deeper into Declan, a cry escaping from his throat. He half-heard Declan let out a moan. He was able to catch a quick glance of Declan’s face, his brother’s mouth slightly opened and eyes closed and face slicked with sweat, before Ronan’s shaky arms gave out from the pleasure. He fell onto Declan, buried his face into the pillow besides Declan’s head and felt his chest pressed against Declan’s and the rise of Declan's belly as he breathed hard and fast. They were both breathing hard and fast.

Declan’s voice was a winded thing, coming out through clenched teeth. “Don’t die on me, Ronan. _Start moving_.”

Ronan did, pulling himself back up so that he was sitting back again on his heels as he started slowly thrusting into Declan. The feeling of it made his head bend over. It was too much. He didn’t know anything could ever feel this good. He let out a loud moan as he pushed himself completely inside, felt his balls clench against Declan’s ass, and Declan was telling him to go faster, but Ronan shook his head. He couldn’t. There was no way he could go faster. He stopped thrusting. And then he was coming, the orgasm rocking him forward so that his face pressed into Declan’s chest as he came fast and hard.

He couldn’t move for a moment afterwards, only spurred into movement when he heard Declan ask, smugly, “That good, huh?”

“Fuck, Declan. It was more than good,” Ronan moaned. “I should’ve gotten a warning.”

Declan laughed. “And I should’ve known you wouldn’t last long.”

Ronan righted himself and started to pull out, but even that was too much stimulation, making Ronan wince as his dick throbbed and leaked out more cum. He almost breathed out a sigh of relief when he finished pulling out, removing the condom and tossing it into the bag with the jam packets.

Declan stroked himself as Ronan did all this.

Ronan felt guilty. Declan was right that he hadn’t lasted long. It seemed like he was always going to come first before Declan. It would’ve been nice if he’d been able to make Declan come from Ronan fucking him. And then an idea occurred to him. He pulled Declan’s hand away—“let me”—and put Declan’s dick into his mouth. All his previous worries over giving good head were forgotten, Ronan only wanting to make Declan feel as good as Declan had made him feel. It wasn’t the same as a dick in the ass and Ronan couldn’t go down far without gagging, but it’d have to do. His teeth skimmed over Declan’s cock, and he heard Declan let out a hiss.

Declan’s hand was on his head. “Ronan, tuck your teeth behind your lips.”

Ronan’s faced flushed, but did as he was told before he proceeded to move his mouth up-and-down Declan’s cock, hoping Declan was getting something good out of it.

“You can use your hands, too,” Declan said.

Ronan wrapped a hand around the base of Declan’s dick, working at it, thrusting and twisting, as he started to carefully suck at the tip, remembering the way he’d liked it when Declan had sucked on his.

Declan pulled him off, shocking Ronan, and he was mortified that he hadn’t been doing anything right, but then Declan was grunting and speaking a staggered “com—ing.” Ronan shook his head out from Declan’s hold, angling Declan’s dick so that he was coming on Ronan’s face, over his cheeks and nose and forehead, as Ronan kissed along the top of it, licking at the last-minute cum that slid out of the slit and swallowing down the sweetness. He opened his eyes, some of the cum had landed in his eyelashes, and he looked up through them at Declan, who had something like wonder on his face.

Ronan smirked, wiping at the cum on his lips, and repeated Declan’s words from earlier. “That good, huh?”

Declan cleaned his face with the blankets. “You’re so bad, Ronan.”

“Is that a compliment?”

Declan nodded. “Yes.” He pulled Ronan up for a kiss.

Ronan melted into it. He was getting better at French kissing now. It was easier to relax into the feeling and to not overthink what he had to do with his tongue, so that he could focus on Declan’s lips and tongue and breaths, how Declan responded to him, and how Declan tasted in his mouth, his cum sweetening the saliva that Ronan swallowed. Ronan broke the kiss with a satisfied sigh. “Let’s do it again.”

Declan leaned in for another kiss, but Ronan shook his head, placing a hand to his brother’s chest to stop him. “I mean, I want to be inside you again.”

Declan raised an eyebrow in amusement. “I always knew you were a greedy horndog.”

Ronan reached for a condom packet, too serious to indulge in jokes right now. He was already getting hard again at the thought of entering Declan for a second time.

Declan placed a hand on his arm. “Here.”

Ronan let Declan lie him back in the bed. He propped himself up with an elbow to watch as Declan opened a packet. Declan put the condom on, his grip around Ronan’s dick tight enough to make Ronan wonder if he had something else in mind other than just putting on a condom, which was only confirmed by the slow way Declan’s hand moved down his cock and the way Declan squeezed at his balls when he got to the bottom.

Ronan lifted up a leg to push at Declan with his foot. “I didn’t ask for a hand job, Declan.”

Declan tried to look innocent, but Ronan knew better. He narrowed his eyes as Declan squeezed lube onto his fingers. “I gotta make sure that dick of yours doesn’t go limp.”

“You _know_ it’s going to stay up.”

“Better to be safe than sorry.” Declan kissed his erection before he rubbed the lube over it, sucking on the inside of Ronan’s thigh as his lubricated hand moved up and down Ronan’s cock.

Ronan groaned. “At this rate, you’re going to make me come before I even get in you.”

“Multiple orgasms are good for you,” Declan said, his lips brushing across Ronan’s hipbone. “But we’re really going to have to build up your stamina.”

“Stop lecturing me and let me get in you.”

Declan chuckled. To Ronan’s relief, rather than continuing his little scheme, Declan sat back and tossed aside the bottle of lube. Ronan made the move to get up, but Declan surprised him by standing up on the bed, pushing him back down with his foot, and coming to stand over Ronan with his feet planted on either side of Ronan’s hips. Ronan stared, Declan looking larger-than-life above him, and a question was beginning to form in his mind when Declan shocked him by squatting. His thoughts were a chaotic blur as he watched Declan slowly lower himself onto his dick. As soon as the tip of it entered Declan, pleasure exploded across Ronan’s lower abdomen and traveled up his chest, coming out of his mouth in a loud and strangled moan, and Declan stopped to look at him.

“Too much?”

Ronan nodded.

“Jesus, Ronan.” Declan steadied himself with a hand on Ronan’s hip. “I barely even started.”

“Declan.”

“What?”

Ronan reached out a hand. “Hold it.”

Declan stared at him, and then a blush formed across his cheeks, turning the soft red that was already there to a cherry color. Ronan got half the idea that Declan would’ve hid his face if he’d been able to, but because he couldn’t, Declan turned his face down away from him and took his hand, intertwining their fingers together. “You and your shit—”

“You love it,” Ronan finished. His voice was too fond, but he was too happy to bother with being embarrassed. He squeezed Declan’s hand in his. “You’re cute when you blush, you know?”

Through Declan’s bangs, Ronan could faintly see his face get even redder. “I get it,” Declan mumbled. “This is payback for the stunt I pulled earlier when I was putting on the condom.”

“Hmm. Good guess, but no, it’s just the truth,” Ronan said. “I don’t remember you being a blusher before. Must’ve been something you—”

Declan sunk further down onto his cock, cutting Ronan off. Even though it was definitely on purpose, Ronan didn’t care, too busy focusing on not drowning in the pool of pleasure that expanded from where Declan’s insides squeezed him. He didn’t think he was ever going to get used to how amazing it felt, which only got more and even more better the deeper he penetrated Declan, his brother working slow and steady down the length of him, until Ronan was in completely. He was almost surprised that he hadn’t already came.

As if he had read his mind, Declan said, more breathlessly than Ronan would have expected, “Let me know when you’re about to come.”

Ronan started to answer, but then Declan rolled his hips and he forgot how to speak. Ronan was suddenly aware of how hot he felt all over, sweat over his forehead and on chest, as if he were feverish, but it was definitely not a fever—especially given how the hottest part of his body was the dick Declan was starting to ride up-and-down on, a shuddering sound escaping from his mouth as he did, and Ronan’s own suppressed groan joined it in the air.

“You—” Declan gasped. “You can start thrusting if you want.”

Ronan tried to focus on the way Declan’s thumb was rubbing across the side of his hand, but it was impossible to focus on anything for too long. His mind was a haze of desire. He struggled to talk, but the words came out shifting in tone and staggered. “It’s—not a question of if—I want. More like if I—can.”

“Is it really that good?”

Ronan nodded, closing his eyes. “ _God_ , yes.”

“How good?” Declan asked, panting.

Ronan moaned in response. “Declan—I think I’m going…”

He couldn’t finished, but Declan understood. Before Ronan could even wrap his mind around what was happening, Declan’s asshole was replaced with his mouth, and Ronan wasn’t sure, but it felt as if the condom had been taken off somewhere in-between. Through half-opened eyes, he saw Declan easily take him in his mouth until Declan’s nose was buried in his pubic hair and he could feel the back of Declan’s throat with his dick, the sensation not the same at all to being inside Declan, wetter and only tight at the tip, and then he was coming and Declan was gulping down his cum, and it was _definitely_ different from being inside him.

Afterwards, Ronan pulled Declan up by the hand he held. They laid next to each other, inhaling hard, turned on their sides to face one another, exhaling hard, and as they tried to breathe again, Ronan took his hand out of Declan’s to stroke at Declan’s erection, languid and easily, until Declan was coming in the space between them with a soft noise.

Ronan was about to lean forward to kiss him, but he realized that something was digging into his shoulder. He knew what it was before he even reached for it. The blue of the ring’s gemstone was the exact color of Declan’s eyes.

He let Declan take the ring from him and watched his brother put it on his ring finger. “I saw this earlier.”

“It’s yours.”

“I know. It fits me.” Declan smiled. “I’m sorry I ever gave the first one away to begin with. I really liked that ring.”

Ronan took Declan’s hand back in his. “How many times do you think we can do this before you leave for D.C.?”

“I’ll be back on Sundays.”

“You want to do this after Mass?” Ronan asked. “Wouldn’t that be blasphemous of us?”

Declan pressed his lips to Ronan’s. “If it’s for you, Ronan, then I don’t give a damn.”

**Author's Note:**

> (BONUS FEATURES)
> 
> there's an additional scene that didn't make it in even though i had it planned sort of since the beginning, but while declan was riding ronan, they were supposed to have a conversation about declan's first experience with a guy, which was with someone ronan knows from being in the same grade as declan from aglionby (naturally, he expresses his disapproval in the form of a "fuck, declan. You can do better than that," because the guy's basically asshole #2) and mouth fucking was one of the first things declan did with him (cue conversation: ronan: asking if it was ever reciprocated, declan: shaking his head but telling him that he's not just out to service any idiot ((which ronan is beginning to think)), and declan adds that that the guy had a small dick which made it not bad and it helped declan with gag reflexes so that he could do bigger dicks. that makes ronan laugh and probably asks about his own size, which makes declan laugh). declan is then prompted to pull ronan up from the bed so they can try it and ronan ends up coming in his mouth, but decides he probably doesn't like it because it makes declan cry. declan tells him it's natural and that he likes crying because of it (declan has a mouth fucking kink if you haven't guessed, which is why he makes a joke that things might not work out if ronan doesn't like to do it, but there's a serious and sweet part where he muses about how the brother who's a pain in the ass and hasn't hesitated to give him a headache before is being so nice about it, and ronan says something along the lines that back then he hadn't realized how much declan was suffering alone, etc.).  
> as you can see, this was kinda extraneous and so i decided to make a trade-off by taking it out and replacing it with ronan still coming into declan's mouth somehow.
> 
> also, the title is taken from a richard siken line ("sorry about the blood in your mouth. i wish it was mine," which i did consider having the whole thing as the title). the original title was supposed to be "the abundance of violence" (taken from the line "The gentleness that comes, / not from the absence of violence, but despite / the abundance of it"), but i changed it. here are other quotes that could've fit, or that at least you can see them in the story and that's perfect for lynchest:  
> \- "Let’s say you’ve swallowed a bad thing and now it’s / got its hands inside you. This is the essence of love and failure." (hence the swallowing that happens a lot in the fic)  
> \- "As they wrestle, you can tell that they have forgotten about God, and they are very hungry."  
> \- "They are the same and they are not the / same. They are the same and they hate each other for it."  
> \- "This is how you make the meaning, you take two things and try to define the space between them."
> 
> lastly, declan may have a thing for mouth fucking, but i propose that ronan has a thing for getting comed on (which you can probably read into psychologically really and that could reflect stuff about the difference in their characters in this), and the facial ronan gets after he gives declan a bj was actually not planned, but it happened and i 100% know for sure it was subconciously influenced by a gif that i really like, because the guy in it is really pretty and it's really hot and if anyone knows where it's from, hmu *nudge nudge* and here's a link if anyone wants to see: https://66.media.tumblr.com/dda361a332df83ba87209b5679462bd6/tumblr_owhzrzxxKb1u1jdcro1_400.gif
> 
> well, i hope you liked your stay and if there is a hell, i'll be seeing you there, but while we're alive, kudos and comments would be very much appreciated <3


End file.
